>>28235 She stands amid the hush where Time is kept, A Warden robed in brass and chronowrought, The Clock Woman—eternal sentinel, Who marks the drift of stars with breathless poise. Upon her chest, two vast and burnished globes, Like orbs of dusk and dawn—celestial twins— Did swing with quiet might, not meant for lust, But awe, as mortals might behold the spheres. Her breasts, though fair, were not for fleshly thought— They held the weight of hours, measured in grace, Each heave a tick, each hush a space between, The breath of centuries in curvèd form. She speaks not, yet commands the winds of time, Her gaze a pendulum of fate and fire. O Man, look not with want, but reverence, For what she bears is law: the pulse of worlds. Thus Time obeys her rhythm, slow and vast— And in her shadow, even stars must pass.

>>28309 Meds